


Crazy For You

by ihatejinxxx



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-18
Updated: 2013-08-18
Packaged: 2017-12-23 22:10:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/931636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ihatejinxxx/pseuds/ihatejinxxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick is struggling to adjust to Harry being away on tour and just generally has a lot of feelings</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crazy For You

**Author's Note:**

> Basically at some point I listened to too much of Best Coast's first album and started this and then I was sad when all friends left for college and so I finished it. Mostly angst with a handjob somewhere.

Nick was waiting by his phone like some codependent adolescent. He wouldn’t admit that to anyone, but it was what he was doing and he knew it. He had told Aimee he couldn’t come out because he was too tired from working early mornings. He told Matt and Twitter he was staying in to watch a documentary on Katie Price. Despite all this, he hadn’t learned anything new about Katie Price or evenPeter Andre. He’d spent his time checking his phone every minute to see if any new messages were there, instead of focusing on the mostly naked and glistening chiseled bodies on his screen. So far, there was complete silence on Harry’s end. No texts. No tweets.

 

It’s not like Harry had any reason to text Nick or tell the world about how great his life was at that particular moment. It had never stopped either of them before, though; Nick had loads of messages that meant nothing, just streams of words or a picture of Niall’s bum. They used to send loads of messages back and forth just so the other could see what they were seeing at that particular moment. Just so they knew the other was thinking of them.

 

He found himself scrolling through Tumblr looking for any information on what Harry was doing, hoping that the lack of current photos would mean Harry was waiting by his phone hoping for Nick’s commentary on this documentary and a minute by minute update of what Thurston was doing. He might concede to admitting, if questioned, he also wanted to view the pasty skin and dimples that came with the search. After deciding the fact he had Harry Styles tagged on Tumblr was pathetic, he switched to google looking at the news section to see the recent tabloids. Harry was still being spotted with girls. Thin, blonde girls with long legs and frail bodies that probably looked better on holiday than Nick’s did. He was still traumatized from the pictures of him, Pixie, and Aimee on the topless beach in Ibiza. Although, Aimee did tell him that he had the best legs she’d ever seen once. Unfortunately, Nick’s Northern pins were not the focus of the spreads on his holiday.

 

“Nicholas,” the one and only Little Pixie Geldof called from the other side of his front door. She had knocked several times but Nick was refusing to let anyone see him wallow with red wine and Peter Andre drenched in water, before a documentary of Blue followed. Nobody needed to see that his boyband affections ran even deeper than lanky limbs and curls.

 

“Open the door Nicholas or I’m going to have twitter play a game of Pixie or Grimmy in 2008.”

“You’re a cruel mistress,” Nick replied setting his wine glass on the coffee table and going to the door. Nick had plenty of embarrassing blonde photos online already, but he was pretty sure Pixie had the most embarrassing photos of him and the least conscience when it came to sharing them with the world.

 

Nick unlocked the door and let her in. The first thing he saw was a bag from Tesco’s and he could see Oreo’s peeking out the top.

 

“I figured that you needed a mate,” Pixie smiled waltzing in and setting her stuff on the counter, “I didn’t want you to keep wallowing.”

 

“Noble of you,” Nick nodded watching her pour herself a glass of wine and grab a cookie from the plate Fiona sent home with him.

 

“Also thought I should play the part,” Pixie smirked. She proceeded to pull a Harry Styles cardboard mask out of her bag and onto her face.

 

“I was kidding,” Nick groaned, “You’re the worst, leave.”

 

“Nope, we’re going to get to the bottom of this Styles business tonight,” She laughed pushing the mask to sit atop her head as she grabbed a bottle of whiskey from her bag, “I brought plenty of booze to help you cope while we figure it out.”

 

“He’s just a friend,” Nick shrugged and they headed back to his couch loaded down with booze and biscuits. Pixie gave him a cursory glance as they settled down.

 

“That’s shit and you know it.”

 

It took Nick a few drinks and lots of chiding but finally he shared his thoughts from the past year. Leaning against the arm of the couch facing Pixie, as she leaned against the other, their legs tangled together under a blanket and two open packets of biscuits on top of them, he shared.

 

“He’s just so lovely,” He cooed gesturing toward the telly that was on mute. Somehow it had moved from Peter Andre to a glimpses of Harry in the Live While We’re Young video and Nick lost it. He wasn’t sure if this was some karmic punishment or self inflicted torture, but he was going to spill his guts all the same. “He must know, right? He has to know.”

 

“Everyone tells him he’s lovely,” Pixie shrugged stretching her arms above her head.

 

“I meant that I really like him,” Nick sighs clutching one of the cushions to his chest, “I really, really like him. If he hasn’t ostracized me, then he must be okay with it.”

 

“Maybe he wants to be your boyfriend,” Pixie smiled, “You always say you don’t do relationships.”

 

“It’s not that I don’t do relationships, I’m just never offered them,” Nick explains, “I would be his boyfriend. I wish he was my boyfriend.”

 

“Then make him your boyfriend,” Pixie declared leaning closer to Nick. She was trying her hardest to get into his space. She wanted to make her demands to his face. “Take him on dates so you can gaze into his beautiful green eyes I hear so much about. Watch the stars so he can put those eyes to use. Make him take you everywhere so you can be on permanent holiday and be all inseparable and cute forever. Nicholas, if you want him to be your boyfriend make him your boyfriend.”

 

“I will, Pix,” Nick smiled lazily. One day, Harry will be his boyfriend. Nick was sure of it.

_____

 

Matt was on his case again. His links were irrelevant and had no point, plus Nick was getting distracted at work again. He kept tweeting everything he did like he was some secret agent reporting back to headquarters.

 

Nick was trying not to blame Harry for his erratic behavior, but everyone knew it was thoughts of a young pop star that plagued Nick’s brain these days. Nick hadn’t gone out in weeks. His only contact that wasn’t sanctioned by the BBC was Aimee and Pixie taking turns pitying him in his apartment.

 

“He has more shows in London soon,” Aimee informed him grabbing a sweater of his and a bag of clothes she had failed to move out of his flat.

 

“And?” Nick called back from his bed. He wasn’t moving today. He had gotten back from the studio at noon, and after a meeting saying he needed to improve his links because they were getting an overwhelming amount of negative texts, he was feeling like panel show reruns on Dave were much better than actually talking to people.

 

“And you’ll be fun again,” She snapped before appearing in the doorway. Nick glanced at her, all pointed glasses and orange hair, and rolled his eyes.

 

“I’m not a dog waiting for their master to come home.”

 

“Then stop acting like it,” She shrugged walking toward the door. Nick glanced at his phone again. There was a message from LMC about how Kim Kardashian crying was her favorite thing. Although Nick enjoyed the following collage of Kim Kardashian crying, it wasn’t the message he wanted. He just wanted a ‘this is what I did today’ from Harry. It wasn't like Nick was asking for some deep confession of love. He didn’t understand why this was different. Harry had gone on tour before and they had communicated just fine. Nick had gotten touristy pictures of the Hollywood sign, the statue of liberty, Niagara Falls, and an assortment of odd pictures of ducks.

 

Nick thought about pushing himself out of bed to go to some party, just so he could take pictures of himself there to prove Aimee wrong. He could have fun without Harry. He did all last year. The fall and winter they spent together didn’t mean Nick couldn’t function without him. Just because his mum was once again charmed by Harry during Christmas doesn’t mean anything.

 

Nick glanced at his phone again. There were no new messages, so he sent a tweet about how Example was a legend when he hosted Never Mind the Buzzcocks. He continued trying to follow the episode trying to guess the song and after a while sent Harry a text.

 

**_I can’t wait until you’ve become_ **

**_less relevant so I can guess your_ **

**_songs correctly on NMTB_ **

 

Nick didn’t think of it until after he sent it. For a brief moment, it was like the old days before he realized he wanted more from Harry then his equally Northern sense of humor. Nick did stare at his phone for an unhealthy amount of time after he realized what he had sent. Waiting and hoping for a reply, Nick started to regret all of his life decisions every second he waited for a response.

 

                                                          _You wouldn't be able_

_to anyway_

 

Nick smiled at the response and quickly typed one back.

 

_**They only do singles I’ll be** _

_**fine. None of those rubbish** _

_**album tracks** _

 

This is normal. Nick can fall into these conversations where he feels like he can take the piss out of all of Harry’s achievements and Harry will know that he is incredibly proud of him. He feels better when he knows he’s not being too obvious. Rita referred to it as ‘pulling pigtails’ and laughed about it over cocktails with a Delvigne once.

 

                                                            _Heyyy I’ll be in London_

_the day after next._

 

Nick smirked as he could clearly read the ‘Heyyy’ in Harry’s tone and paused when he saw the last bit. He wanted more than anything to see Harry again, but at the same time he has spent too much time alone thinking about what he would do, he couldn’t actually think of doing anything. It had been so long he had forgotten that he was actually friends with Harry Styles and not just some obsessed fanboy.

 

_**Do you want to grab** _

_**lunch or something?** _

 

Nick was trying to seem like he was curious and not nervous which happened to be easy when Harry had plans from now until 2014 squared away.

 

                                                          _Already have a lunch. Pick_

_me up after and we can go_

_round yours or a pub whatever_

 

Nick knew the suggestion of his wasn’t a proposition, but his first thought of Harry sprawled naked in his bed was followed by the memory of waking up for work to find Harry asleep in his jeans and jumper on his couch with a blanket tossed to the floor in the night. Nick thought fondly of how Harry would always make sure Nick had breakfast before he left for work and force Nick into a heavier coat while muttering something about promising Nick’s mum to keep him safe. All the reasons Nick was surprised when people referred to Harry as a child.

 

_**Sure thing popstar** _

 

Nick senses the reality of this and realizes he needs weeks of stories that don’t involve pining for Harry by then and decides he needs to start going out again.

 

It took a slew of pleading texts to Aimee before she agreed to help him have a social life again. He spent the rest of his night following her and Ian around. Ian spent most of his time playing Temple Run 2 in booths of clubs while Aimee dragged Nick to socialize.

 

It wasn’t hard for him, really, talking to people was his thing. No matter what is going on in his life, Nick finds it easy to get along with anyone. Nick simply had a problem with wanting to leave the house when he knew he wouldn't be running into the lanky teenager that treats everyone far better than they deserve him too.

 

That was how he found himself waiting in a restaurant to meet a guy. He was like most of the guys Nick had been with or been set up with, brunette with a job title of model even though they could only point at one Hollister bag or even worst a set of catalogue pictures. He was excited to prove Aimee wrong, plus Pixie had been admonishing him all day for going on a date when he was already smitten with Harry. The least he could do was force Aimee into sending him hateful messages as well. He waited for this model kid to show up and ended up texting half of his contacts so he looked like he was busy doing something.

 

Twenty minutes later and he was still waiting but now he had photos of Miquita’s pregnant belly and had gotten Annie to send pictures of her pregnant belly so he could respond to Miquita’s messages appropriately. His phone battery was starting to go and he knew it was time to see if he was being stood up, but, to be honest, Nick didn’t care.

 

This failed model had nothing to compare to what Nick saw in Harry, so Nick decided that instead of trying to get a hold of this not-Harry he would send a mass text inviting people to take his place and send a text to real-Harry. Real-Harry that he was going to see in less than 24 hours.

 

_**Do I look fat in this?** _

 

Nick sent a picture of Miquita’s belly with her lower half encased in a metallic gold skirt. Nick got his invitation rejected by Fiona _‘I’m in bed already’_ and Matt _‘I will never cross the river this late’_  before Harry responded.

 

                                                          _Yeah but it’s probably_

_the uterus that doesn’t_

_belong to you._

 

 _‘It’s a nice skirt though_ ’ is a separate message, like an afterthought of what he wished he had sent the first time. Nick smiled ignoring more rejections, Ian’s _‘I’m with Aimee’’_ and Pixie’s _‘You deserve this so you can wait besides I’m with Theo_ ’, as he tries to come up with a response.  

 

_**Mckenzie will be outraged** _

_**you insulted all the hard work** _

_**he put into this physique.** _

 

was what he sent to Harry while he quickly senta Bring him too I’m lonely and sad’ to Pixie.

 

                                                          _Getting on the plane_

_I’ll see you soon._

 

Nick smirked as he waited for Pixie to show up.

_____

Nick was driving to pick up Harry from lunch. He was enjoying the ride in his c350 listening to Rihanna and for the first time in months his steering wheel wasn’t freezing. Harry bounded into the passenger seat as soon as his car started to pull in front of the restaurant. Nick didn’t even have to pull out of the heavy London traffic.

 

“Well eager,” Nick chuckled looking over at Harry as he adjusted his pants so he could sit comfortably.

 

“Excited to be back in London,” Harry shrugged flashing him a smile.

 

“You weren’t living it up in LA?” Nick raised his eyebrows. Nick was surprised that he had said that. He had spent most of Harry’s time in LA reading rumors about what Harry was getting up to and being bitter he chose to go to LA in his time off instead of hang out with Nick in London.

 

“Hanging out really,” Harry laughed, “No exclusive parties. just writing and the beach.”

 

Nick nodded and held back something revealing like ‘I know’ or ‘I saw the pictures’ or closer to the truth ‘I know because I saw the picture while scrolling through your tag on Tumblr.’ Harry seemed to assume that people didn’t read the tabloids about him. He would always retell headlines or blatantly ignore them whenever he talked to anyone he knew personally.

 

For people who really haven’t spoken in a month they weren’t speaking. The only noise was the continued sound of Rihanna. Harry usually complained. but he got in during ‘Diamonds’ and now ‘Pour It Up’ had started; he hadn’t mentioned it yet.

 

“How’s Pixie and Aimee? Well and the pregnant friends, Henry, and your mum?” Harry asked. It seemed like he was mentally scrolling through all the important people in Nick’s life.

 

“Everyone’s fine, I think. Ian and Aimee are a thing now, so she’s fine and Pixe is the same as she’ll ever be,” Nick smiled, “How are you though, pop star? Need to check into a hospital for exhaustion yet?”

 

Nick hated that he had to pull these jokes. He could already hear Pixie scolding him about the whole being open about his feelings thing they talked about. He would argue that, yeah, they did discuss it, but they never decided that he would actually do it.

 

“Don’t think so. I’m hoping I don’t get a knee injury. I think it’s going around,” Harry laughed, “Plus, Louis complains that he feels old all the time.”

 

“You’d pride yourself, though. Look how mature I am. My joints hurt when it’s cold.”

 

Harry rolled his eyes and gave a punch to Nick’s shoulder. They were walking up to Nick's step pulling each other closer and making jokes. Nick wore a dreamy smile because, yeah, this is how it used to be.  

 

"Where are you going?" Nick frowned as he sat on the couch as Harry wandered away.

 

"You didn't have a proper lunch," Harry explained waving Nick off when he managed to get up to track Harry to his kitchen.

 

"I can feed myself when you're not here, you know," Nick stated while watching indignantly as Harry started making a bean and cheese toastie. Mckenzie would start harassing him on being fat again, for sure.

 

"You can't though. You live off other peoples roast dinners and wotsits for your tea."

 

Nick rolled his eyes because he lived off others peoples roast dinners when Harry was here; he simply likes the atmosphere of a Sunday roast. The good food he didn't have to cook was only a bonus.  

 

"I had a chicken salad for my tea yesterday," Nick argued. If Harry wants he'll play him the clips of the show this morning where he talked about it. Well, probably not, he spent most of his time complaining about what a rubbish tea chicken salad was.

 

"That's not a real tea."

 

Actually that was his tea a few days ago. His tea yesterday was that thing that was suppose to be a date but ended up being a night out with Theo and Pixie. Should he bring that up? That was the whole reason Nick did that anyway, but, now, with Harry pushing a plate of bean, cheese, and toast towards him it felt wrong. It felt like sharing the story would break this domestic mood.

 

"Still haven't got your new floor," Harry nodded scuffing a trainer against the floor of Nick's living room. Not any trainers, not the white converse, not the brown boots, the stupid black nikes with the purple swooshes that match Nick's own.

 

"That's next week. I'll be at Emily's down the road then America."

 

"Not going to holiday with us, then."

 

It didn’t sound sad or disappointed, but Nick felt the urge to squeeze Harry's knee, so he did.

 

"Glasgow's not a holiday," Nick sighed keeping his hand where it is on Harry's knee.

 

"I know you're not close with them or anything," Harry started nervously adjusting his beanie, "They're good lads, Grimmy."

 

"Harry, you don't have to defend them," Nick reassured. He loved that Harry felt he had to. "I know they're your best mates. I'm going to Coachella with the girls, well, Theo and Henry, too. It has nothing to do with them."

 

Nick felt weird about this whole thing. Yeah, Harry had been excited when Nick mentioned staying on tour with them for a bit, so excited he got it approved, but this was different. Harry's face flickered with rejection when he thought Nick wasn't looking.  

 

It became a silent time with Nick sneaking glances at Harry in between the last bites of his toasty while Harry watched his heels lift in and out of his trainers.

 

"Nick," Harry spoke softly. His voice lower and almost solemn. Nick looked at him and it was like seeing him fall apart all at once.

 

Nick didn't know what to do except stare and wait. He was waiting for bad news or just a cry. Instead, he got curls in his face as Harry piled into his space and pressed his lips against Nick's. Nick only just wrapped an arm around Harry's waist when he was pulling away. Nick tried to meet Harry's eyes, but instead got another kiss, another more tongue involved kiss. Harry ran a hand through Nick's already deflated quiff and pulled away.

 

They stared at each other from opposite ends of the couch. Utter silence. Nick not able to look at Harry’s eyes that were blinking at him expectantly.

 

"I should probably go," Harry mumbled getting up.

 

"I'll drive you back," Nick quickly supplied standing up as well. They shuffled to the car, miles apart from how the entered Nick's apartment.

 

The drive was a continuation of silence, besides the Rihanna album that had started over.

 

"What are we doing?" Harry asked glaring out the window at the front of his North London home.  

 

"We're just friends," Nick spoke softly wishing he had a posher accent, instead of a rowdy Northern one. Nick had to ignore the message Harry sent by hitting the skip song button twice before leaving the car. Harry had chosen the beginning of 'Stay' to be the soundtrack to Nick watching him storm into his house.

_____

Nick couldn’t figure anything out anymore. Everything was falling apart. Even Sara Cox had started mothering him at the studio. Nick felt fine half the time, but the other half of his time was spent feeling horrible about everything.

 

“Nick,” Aimee called from the other side of the door. She didn’t with him anymore so Nick felt no obligation to open the door for her. Plus, he would be spending the next week with her in America, and she could heckle him there.

 

“I know you’re home, Nick,” she huffed. She would usually unlock the door herself with the key she never gave back, but he was at Emily’s house still so she would have to figure something else out.

 

Nick was trying really hard to not eat all the biscuits at Emily’s house. He would be able to replace them before she got back from her job, that held normal hours that restricted her ability to mope around midday, but Aimee was blocking the front door.

 

“Nick, you’ll have to see me tomorrow and the plane is very compact, so you’ll get to hear all of my commentary on how royally you fucked everything up with Harry. Not just any Harry, though, Harry Styles.”

 

Nick quickly opened the door and pulled her in. No one in this apartment block cared, but Nick had seen way too many tweets about things fans had found by sheer happenstance. They didn’t need to find out about his non-relationship with Harry. He didn’t even want Aimee to know about his non-relationship with Harry.

 

“Finally,” Aimee laughed, “I thought I was going to have to paint out ‘We’re just friends.’ quote from Nick Grimshaw to Harry Styles on the door.”

 

“Shut up,” Nick groaned rubbing a hand over his face. He really should have spent more time contemplating actually walking off the balcony that he mistook for a bathroom the other morning.

 

“It’s fine, you say dumb shit. It’s fine,” Aimee reassured.

 

“He hasn’t spoken to me.”

 

“He’s busy,” she shrugged, “You were barely talking before.”

 

“He didn’t even say goodbye, Aimee. He always says goodbye,” Nick sighed rubbing a thumb over his anchor tattoo, “It’s some charming posh manners thing.”

 

“This means he has feelings too, though.”

 

“I don’t even know if I have feelings, Aimee,” Nick groaned setting his head on the counter, “He kissed me and I didn’t do anything. I didn’t pull him back in or say that was great. I just stared like an idiot and then drove him home without saying anything.”

 

“What do you want?” She asked focusing on Nick.

 

“I want. I want to be happy again. I used to be happy and drunk all the time, and it was great. I talked to everyone and none of them asked me what my intentions were with a young pop star. The papers thought I was dating Pixie and I could play whatever I wanted during my radio slot,” Nick ranted taking a deep breath before continuing, “That was before this though. This need for me to get an eighteen year old boy to say goodbye to me before his band left the city.”

 

“That means you have feelings,” Aimee stated like he was some idiot.

 

“I never have feelings. Not long term feelings that are more than platonic.”

 

“You’re a liar,” Aimee snapped which brought Nick’s gaze to her rather than the floral teapot. “You have felt romantic with people for more than a night. I practically had to walk you to your plane when that model kid in New York offered to make you his live in.”

 

“This isn’t some model kid, who didn’t offer anything, by the way, he simply said I had a place to stay if I moved to New York, something about lazy blowjobs and long fingers. You know I’m afraid of commitment.”

 

“You’re not afraid of commitment,” she rolled her eyes, “You can commit to a house, a time slot on the radio, a holiday, and a dog. You just have never had a relationship so you’re being a bitch about it.”

 

“I need a drink,” Nick huffed out. His finger raked against his scalp because he still couldn’t focus on anything. He couldn't stop that feeling that he was wasting his life. It was midday, he didn't have to go to work for awhile, and the only thing scheduled was him being so drunk and dehydrated in a desert that he reached a hangover so bad he couldn’t feel anything. It was probably unhealthy how absolutely fucked he planned on getting, but it was better than trying to sort out this Harry business.

_____

 

Even Coachella wasn't sorting Nick out. He was seeing gigs, drinking by the pool, and he was at the point on holiday where his tan was impeccable, yet he just wanted to send Harry an endless amount of pictures. Instagram got the brute of it, though. He got more reactions, more colorful and instant, then anything Harry could possibly send back, but he wanted that. He wanted dumb jokes and long pauses in between messages.

 

“Just message him,” Henry demanded. Nick looked up from his juice and frowned at him. “I know what I’m talking about, Nick. He’s a young kid, who risked a lot to make a move on you, and you rejected him. You need to talk to him first.”

 

“Oh Henry, you genius,” Nick muttered sarcastically. Nick was being purposefully moody, now. He knew that Henry had dealt with him being much worse and was in it until the end whether or not Nick wanted him to be. Henry swatted at him and huffed.

 

“Try it, then be a twat,” Henry muttered, “I don’t need my phone going off from you liveblogging Coachella. I run a business, you know.”

 

“Serious fashion business, you do,” Nick mumbled fishing his phone out from it’s place under him. Once he had decided to take Henry’s advice it was really easy for him to type out what he wanted. He’d been thinking about it long enough.

 

_**You didn’t say goodbye.** _

 

Nick knew it was probably pathetic, and he was out of the country, so he had to DM him on Twitter which meant he would probably see it ages from now, if ever. He ended up being swept up by Alexa to see some indie band with a bloke she fancied and he completely forgot about the message, that was until Henry called Alexa and Nick decided to take a picture of her. He caught site of the notification and quickly went to see his reply.

 

                                                            _You didn’t either._

 

Nick frowned and typed a reply as Alexa pulled him to wherever she wanted. He didn't care; Nick wasn't impressed with the line up, so his time was spent following people who cared around.

 

_**But you’re supposed to** _

_**be a charming young lad** _

_**while I’m some pretentious** _

_**pervy wanker** _

 

He was used to self deprecation and embarrassing himself to make people smile. He tried to do the math at what time it was there, but he couldn’t remember what number he had to add. He had come up with it being between 11pm to 2am.

 

                                                          _You’re not as shit_

_as you tell people_

 

Nick laughed because that is exactly the opposite of what they were telling him here. To be fair, he was being a miserable twat because he was coward. Instead of leading the party, he was trying to end it and complaining incessantly whenever he was told he had to leave the pool to do something.

 

_**You’re greater than** _

_**anything anyone has** _

_**ever said about you.** _

 

Alexa is pulling him into a conversation and when he glances up to mumble something he doesn't even remember the face’s of anyone in the circle.

 

                                                          _Then why didn't_

_you say anything_

 

Nick expected Harry to dance around the subject, but this generation of internet kids would text you anything. He was staring at his phone trying to excuse his actions without sounding like he was a mess. Harry already knew he was immature and lacked life skills, he didn't need to know Nick also couldn’t figure his own feelings out.

 

_**What did you want me** _

_**to say??** _

 

Nick is not even bothering to lift his head to join the conversation anymore. He needs this answer. He needs to know what Harry wants. He wants to give Harry what he wants.

 

Nick feels a hand on his lower back and looks to see Henry reading his messages from just behind his shoulder. Nick would be exasperated if it was Aimee or Pixie but Henry has always been honest and sincere to him so he just looks at him blankly. Henry pulls him closer and they wait. Every second seems loaded and Nick is watching people’s mouths move without hearing any of the sounds they’re making, yet he can vaguely make out the Harlem Shake from somewhere far off.

 

                                                          _Anything_

_____

Nick is in the new setting of his flat, but is more miserable than he was the last time he was here.  Despite how he had insisted for the past the year that the carpet in his flat had been ruining his mood, the new floors were in, and he could not feel any uplifting mood swings. He was currently wondering if the fictional gold floors he talked about to rile his dad up were actually a thing. They would lift his mood, surely. Nick bets, even Rihanna didn't have gold washed floors.

 

Nick had been trying to force himself to message Harry since he’s been back in the same country. The fact that failing to say anything is why everything is so shit now, doesn’t mean that he is going to say something he hasn't over thought. He keeps seeing pictures of Harry having fun on tour and he’s jealous. He wants to put the smile on Harry’s face. He was fine competing with the boys, Harry’s family, and the odd fan until he was struck out of the competition by a combination of space and his own stupidity. If he gets another tweet about Harry giving a hickey to a member of 5 Seconds of Summer he is going to go on an irrational Azealia Banks esque rampage.

 

"You don't own him," LMC commented as he gave another glare to her computer screen. It was showcasing a photoset of Michael whatever and Harry cuddled together and dancing around.

 

"But I want to," Nick admitted. He refused to look away because he didn't want to let her know he was shocked he'd admitted it. He couldn't lie to himself anymore, though. He missed Harry all the time. It wasn't the usual ‘who's going to go round the shops with me’ missing; it was a full blown ‘I want you to be there when I wake up in the morning and sprawl limbs across my furniture and just invade my space until we're one’ type of longing.

 

"And he wants me to," Nick added. This statement was simply so he didn't feel as hopeless and pitiful. LMC moved on to looking at the tweets being sent in to the show because, hey, that's her actual job.

 

All of these thoughts only proved to him that he's a wanker though. He should be comforted by the fact that he can now admit he has feelings for Harry Styles, but the doesn't solve the problem of it actually being Harry Styles.

 

Nick manages to get home and is still bitter that he was daft enough to get himself into this mess. Even more bitter that he winds up alone in his bed with a packet of Oreos. He would have a drink, but he’s been hungover since Coachella. At this point, the exhaustion and pounding headaches seems unhealthy, although his new sets of Henry Holland sunglasses are coming in handy. Matt Fincham had even commented on him needing to take more early nights.

 

He spends a good deal of time staring at his phone. It felt as if when Harry left he took everything with him. Nick’s material things remained but somehow his flat felt empty. There were no sounds coming from the kitchen around tea time or random singing from the living room while he was getting ready. There was definitely no warm weight next to him to watch ITV in bed. As he stares at the screen open to the conversation headed simply with Harry, the phone starts to receive a call.  He has one brief flicker of hope until his brain connects that the picture isn’t Harry’s smile but a picture of a picture from when he first got to London.

 

Of course, Henry was calling him. Henry had watched him fall apart in LA, and Nick had been ignoring him since he got back. It wasn’t like Nick couldn’t see the messages Henry sent in on his way to work every morning.

 

“Hiya,” Nick mumbled into the receiver. It seemed weird and garbled to him without the help of coming from a tinny speaker, so he couldn’t imagine what Henry was hearing.

 

“You okay?” Henry asked immediately. He sounded more like he was making a business call, but Nick knew the slightly formal tone to his voice was due to stress and concern not etiquette.

 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Nick lied. He really didn’t feel like going through this whole feelings thing again. Henry knew most of it and would push much farther than Nick was comfortable with.

 

“You won’t be when Collette gets around to calling you.”

 

“You told Collette,” Nick snapped. His eyes focused on a picture he could see in his living room. He counted the butterflies in it, noticed it’s colors, all to avoid this conversation.

 

“Well, she asked how you were. I couldn't lie to her. You know how protective she is though,” Henry sighed. Nick carded to a hand through his hair tugging at his roots.

 

“She’s gonna pester me and bully him.” Nick groaned worrying his bottom lip, his teeth nibbling at the chapped skin from not using chapstick in this cold weather.

 

“Then fix it yourself,” Henry snapped. He seemed to realize his tone and let out a breath before continuing, “You need to tell him how you feel.”

 

“You keep saying that,” Nick tried not to screech. He hadn't felt this frustrated since he took macroeconomics.  “Harry and I don’t do that. We don't say anything. We have never talked about our intentions with each other or whatever people keep asking me. It was easy to just be whatever we were without asking questions. Now, I’m expected to say, ‘oh yeah, when I took you to my house and everyone loved you I fell in love with you’ or ‘hey. when you go on tour I have to resort to social media telling me I'm great because you're no longer here to make feel like I actually exist and matter.’ I wish we did, Henry. I wished we talked about how we felt all the time. Maybe then,  I wouldn't feel so helpless. We don’t, though, Henry. We don’t, so I’m stuck here eating Oreos.”

 

“You don’t have to be, though,” Henry sighed after a long pause of Nick’s deep breathes as he continued to fall into this mental breakdown. He always joked about going mad, but this time he thinks he really is. This is the first time he didn’t have to be drunk to feel like he'd lost total control.  

 

Nick felt Henry had to be right. There had to be another way for Nick to go about this. There had to be a way where he didn’t feel like he would never find his bearings again. Nick wanted to go back to the beginning. A time where he had interviewed One Direction, just after X- Factor. He wished he could have taken Caroline’s experience as a warning not to do any of this.

 

If he could go back, he would still invite Harry to Christmas at his, but this time instead of fussing with Liv, as she mockingly sang What Makes You Beautiful, he would pull Harry aside and kiss him. It would have to be that dramatic. How Nick saw it, the only way to prevent this horrid feeling now would have been crippling embarrassment then. He would have loved to have been pushed away.

 

Back then, he wasn't too invested in whatever he now wanted this to be. He thought Harry was charming and that he would enjoy a few more months of fame before falling into obscurity. He figured the cameras would lessen not worsen within the coming months. Nick, however, was very wrong. Harry and his mates were shoved into international fame. Nick became a luxury Harry made time for, and Nick would be lying if he said it hadn't made him feel special.

 

“Henry,” Nick sighed. He couldn't relay these thoughts. It was exhausting just thinking them.

 

“Can you just message him before he leaves the country again?” Henry softly demanded. He was carrying none of the gravitas Nick knew he held, but that somehow made his request more effective.

 

“I make no promises,” Nick replied before hanging up.

 

It truly was so much easier before people started inquiring about him and Harry. It was easy when he didn’t actually have to make excuses for all the things he did for Harry. He had to explain being front row for One Direction, had to explain why Harry got invited to his exclusive fashion dinner, had to explain the pictures of them with a stripper on his birthday. None these explanations helped Nick now. None of them would ever help him.

 

Nick had to face the fact he was a lonely twat. Which was fine, this discovery wasn’t exactly new. The new bit was how he, now, not only craved attention, but craved attention from Harry. These discoveries from too many consecutive days of self reflection didn't help his actual relationship with Harry.

 

Nick thought about what Henry told him and stared at his phone until the battery turned red. The last thing he did before the phone turned black was send a message.

 

_**I just want to tell you** _

_**that I always loved you** _

_____

 

Upon waking up, Nick took his phone off the charger. He looked at his newly charged phone to see an allotment of messages.

 

                                                        _Knob end_

 

_I’m about to go to france._

 

Nick didn't understand what that meant. Obviously he understood the literally message of Harry having a tour diary with the allotted dates being in France, he was more confused by what that meant in response to his original text. Harry should know Nick's an idiot by now that can't take these cryptic hints.

 

_**What does that mean??** _

 

Nick messaged incredulously. This wasn’t Mastermind and Harry should know better.

 

                                                        _We’ll deal with this_

_before I go to America._

 

Nick could picture Harry typing this in some airport. He could see him bite his lip while his eyes widen in frustration. That was all Nick figured he'd hear from Harry for a while despite how nothing was actually solved.

_____

When Nick wakes up the next morning he decides that he doesn’t feel better at all. He has to go to work and it’s freezing. He has to push the dogs outside because it’s raining and as he puts on his raincoat he wants the day to be over already. He hears his phone ring and he continues to get ready because he figures it’s just the cab being here early again. When his door buzzes as well he realizes there’s been some clerical error. Nick stumbles to his door Thurston barking at it already.

 

Nick opens the door and, of course, it’s Aimee muttering about a venue because Nick’s life isn’t a romantic comedy. Nick frown deepens as he pictured certain curls poking out of a beanie, but instead Aimee is dripping orange dye on his new hardwood floors and muttering about how she should have moved to LA.

 

“Why are you here?” Nick finally asks staring after her. Her legs aren’t as long and thin as Harry's and she doesn’t go straight to the kettle like him either. Nick feels bad enough about comparing them to not say anything about it.

 

“Ian and I are going to lunch with his mum and he wants to see me before she comes in,” She explained petting Thurston, “I thought I’d give you company.”

 

“You mean use this as an opportunity to check up on me,” Nick retorted grabbing his wallet so Aimee wouldn’t see that Ian buys him breakfast every morning. He could be independent. Well, at least he could be today. He didn’t need Aimee telling Henry that he was still hopeless.

 

“Henry’s worried,” Aimee shrugged.

 

“I can’t just get the boy of my dreams like he did,” Nick snapped seeing that the cab service had messaged him seven minutes ago to say his cab was here.

 

“I’ve remembered I don’t like you in the morning,” Aimee laughed following Nick as he made his way to the cab. Aimee spent most of her time laughing at him while he was upset. He was used to it but it didn't make him like it anymore. They listened to Vanessa Feltz blabber on on the way to the BBC building while Nick thought of something clever to tweet settling on his usual ‘MORNINNNG’ before continuing to stare at his hands to avoid looking at Aimee’s smug expressions.

 

“Nick you're late,”  Matt Fincham droned when Nick and Aimee walked by the huge portrait of Professor Green at 6:25.

 

“Careful Finchy,” Aimee warned, “Nick is grumpy today.”

 

“It’s the rain,” Matt rolled his eyes, “Always moody on a gloomy day.”

 

“It’s almost May and freezing,” Nick complained sitting next to Matt as Aimee went straight to Ian as he was in early to cover for Fiona. Nick didn't want Aimee in there. She would distract Ian and they would be all lovely and coupley. Nick didn’t care how selfish he was being. He didn’t want to see that.

 

The show went by fine. The reviewer was a bubbly girl with a Welsh accent that made Sara and Nick laugh, but as soon as Nick hit play on the last track he was out of the studio. He had nothing to do after the show so he was waiting for his cab in the lobby. Nick got into the cab realizing the best part of his day had already happened. It wasn’t even noon, and nothing could be better than those forty seconds he had stumbled to the door thinking that by some miracle it was a young pop star on the other side.

 

Nick’s phone went off but he preferred listening to Sara play “Suit and Tie” then dealing with the messages. He didn’t need to read about his friends worrying about how stroppy Aimee told them he was. He cursed the heavy rain as he walked up to his house. He went to unlock the door but it opened easily as he didn’t have time to lock up properly when he left in a huff. He went straight to his room and threw his wet coat on the floor before throwing himself on his bed with a groan. Then he remembered a maroonish color catching his eye and the absence of dog noises and got up heading back out to the living room.

 

“You did notice,” Harry laughed, a low rumbling breath of one, as a grin slowly pulled at his face. Thurston was balled in his lap and Harry shoved him off a bit to stand.

 

“You’re in France,” Nick shook his head. This was stupidly impossible.

 

“No, I’m in your flat,” Harry frowned tugging Nick to him by the belt loops. Nick stood still. but let Harry man handle him. Harry was giving him this look that he remembered meant he was amused.

 

“Aren’t you busy and important? Appointments of all sorts and such,” Nick shook his head still not able to fully react to this. Harry hands just slid up Nick’s torso then back down again. Nick wanted to watch his gray shirt ride up and cover Harry’s fingertips, but instead kept his focus on Harry’s face. Harry’s face which seemed ridiculously close. At this distance, Nick could count freckles and finally agree that Harry’s nose is a bit large.

 

Nick didn’t have a lot of time to inspect Harry’s face though because Harry continued to lean in. He continued to press into Nick’s space until their lips were brushing against each other. He continued to press their bodies against each other he was pushing his tongue past Nick’s lips, having them tangle together to the sound of heavy breaths and soft groans.

 

Nick wanted to say something. Nick had always wanted to say something, but Harry kept pushing until Nick was against the wall in his hallway. Their mouths continued to work together and Harry had forced a leg between Nick’s and was insistently pressing against Nick’s crotch. Nick wanted to push him away, just enough so they could make it into his bedroom so they don’t get off rutting against each other like teenagers. Well, Harry was still a teenager, but surely he deserved a proper bed.

 

Nick didn’t though. He fisted his hand into the hair creeping out of the maroon beanie he was quick to throw on the floor. Harry could get a new one if Thurston or Puppy messed with it. Harry continued his movement rocking his hips so Nick could feel his hard on pressing just below his hip, but their height difference made this anything but ideal. Nick was mostly preoccupied with his mouth being infiltrated by Harry as he licked into his mouth, but knew that things could be so much better. As Harry tugged at Nick’s belt loops again, Nick knew that Harry was needy just how he had imagined, and that he had to be the one to pull away and fix this.

 

“Harry,” Nick sighs once Harry’s mouth pulls away to breath heavily against Nick collar bone. Harry is still rutting making mewling noises. Everything is too tight and hot and dry, and Nick still can’t form anything good enough to achieve what he wants so he ends up guiding Harry backwards by the shoulders into his room. He knows better than to not use words to express what they’re feeling right now, but it seems so much easier to let Harry tug at their trousers until he has both of their cocks in his obscenely large hands. He starts pumping slowly and despite the precome eveything is still too dry, but Harry is whimpering into Nick’s neck and leaving bites that cause Nick to hiss and thrust into Harry’s hand. Harry collapses into Nick shoulder whimpering and the slide of his hand against Nick is a lot wetter as he uses his come.

 

He’s still mouthing at Nick. Nick knows he’s not doing it consciously just trying to cause some stimulation where his mouth is pressing against Nick’s neck. Nick comes as Harry lets out another whimper before biting into Nick’s skin hard enough to bruise. This is weird because Nick's always been into giving bites and not receiving them, but he’s trying new things like getting tossed off by teenagers so he’s not going to question that part. Nick pulls them onto his bed, too exhausted to clean up or kick his too tight jeans the rest of the way off, so they cuddle on top of Nick’s duvet with their pants and jeans around their thighs.  

_____

Nick stomped around after work. He had been totally fine this morning. He had been totally fine all this week and the week before. Ever since Harry sent him out to the cab with a kiss on the lips and a bacon sandwich, Nick had felt elated. Well until it had been three days and Harry hadn’t messaged him. Then it was a week, Harry was not messaging him. He was all in France and  Germany and Spain. There were pictures on the internet and in the papers of them all shirtless and having fun on their days off, and all of these pictures made it to Nick’s desk. No matter how many times he refused to look through Heat, except when his new holiday pictures were in it, no red ring of shame, so that was a plus, or how many times he restricted his internet access, he still saw them.

 

He was calling Harry before he realized it. He had been walking around to clear his head and get some chips from the pub down the street. Unfortunately for his head clearing, after a full hour of not even remembering Harry existed, he caught sight of a huge poster at the bus stop. Instead of advertising Britain’s Got Talent or whatever ITV nonsense it usually did, it was a large black poster with blocks of pictures containing Harry’s face with the release date of their new 3D movie. Apparently instead of walking by it like most of the other people in Primrose Hill were, he had to pull out his phone and ring Harry.

 

Harry didn’t answer, and it was seriously starting to put a damper on the spell of sunny days in London. Nick was getting excited in the morning about it not being absolutely freezing, and then remembering that apparently Harry was only his for one rainy day.

 

Nick found himself walking past the crosswalk to go back to his street and heading down the street that will eventually turn into Harry’s. He knew he wouldn’t be there. Harry’s never home even when they are in the same country, the touring only makes a better excuse for the emptiness of the huge posh house.

 

Nick hated that he couldn’t force himself to turn around even when he knew there was no point. He needed to let go of this whole thing. He should have let go of it when Harry had Gemma calling him to get some of Harry’s clothes back. He couldn’t even call Nick himself. She made some excuse of how Harry was busy and they didn’t get service in Belgium. Apparently, Harry had slipped into conversation that he had left his Rolling Stones tour shirt at Nick’s on accident, and Nick had to inform her that he hadn’t seen it. Which was mostly true, he hadn’t seen it since Puppy decided it was her favorite thing to throw on the floor and burrow into.

 

He sent Harry a message about how he would ask Fearne if she could use her marital connections to get a new one. He would buy one directly from Ronnie Wood himself if it would make Harry come back. Not even come back, just answer his messages. Nick just wanted Harry to know he really missed him. Nick truly missed him and sent him messages everyday declaring it just so Harry couldn’t deny knowing. Henry had sent one each day he saw Nick wallowing, and Nick decided that one message made him feel better every time he sent it.

 

He didn’t know if he could be what Harry wanted, but if Harry wanted him to he would try. If Harry flew back to see him at all before he was shipped off to America, Nick would be perfect. He promised to be perfect.  

 

“How are you holding up?” Henry asked through the phone. Nick had decided to sit at a bench and call him. Henry was always working hard, but he had gotten used to Nick calling him for support. Nick knew that Henry was the only one who had a chance at talking him out of stupid things like walking to Harry’s empty house and standing in front of the locked gate like a deranged stalker.

 

“Not well,” Nick sighed, “He’s not talking to me. I don’t even know what I did, Henry. He wanted his stuff back. It’s not like we consciously moved in together I just acquired his things. He would stretch out and borrow my clothes and leave his there.”

 

“Did something happen with him?” Henry asked. The ambience in the background was all flicking papers and manufacturing sounds; it was doing Nick’s head in.

 

“Gemma seemed fine, and, if anything has, he didn’t tell me,” Nick shrugged. He didn’t believe that everything revolved around him and knew better to assume that Harry would share his problems with anyone let alone Nick, but the boy had buckets of charm and it was hard for Nick to think of Harry having normal person problems.

 

“You said he had problems with sharing. He clearly has problems sharing his feelings with you.”

 

“Thanks, mate,” Nick huffed watching his trainers shuffle together as he knocked them against each other. He knew Henry was right, but he didn’t like the idea of Harry hiding things from him. Nick had worked really hard to be as open as he had been, and Harry seemed to to go with it. Well at first he did. Now he’s ignoring Nick at all costs and trying to get all his stuff back.

 

“It’s not an insult,” Henry sighed, “I’m just trying to let you know there are other possibilities besides him hating you. He’s very busy.”

 

“I know,” Nick huffed, “Too busy to try and figure out what we are. He could just send a message, you know. ‘You’re really nice, but I like to sleep with girls on tour’ would work. I wouldn’t be heartbroken.”

 

Nick was getting more ridiculous the more he isolated himself and let this whole Harry thing get him.

 

“You need to get busy with something else, Nick. Shouldn’t you be preparing for your telly show or something?”

 

Nick let out a sigh and kick the ground before standing up.

 

“Yeah,” Nick nodded. He gave his goodbyes to Henry and walked back to his flat. He pushed through and saw a lanky figure by his door. Nick spent so much time being upset that when he got close enough to know it was 100% Harry Styles leaning against his front door that he cared much less than he’d expected.

 

“Hey,” Harry drawled out turning his head and giving Nick a lazy smile. He looked exhausted. His face was still pale despite the pictures of him in the sun and he had purple bags under his eyes. If Nick had any talent he could write indie songs about how Harry looked in this moment..

 

Nick simply unlocked the door refusing to verbally acknowledge Harry. He gave a simple nod and trudged into his house because he couldn’t just turn off how upset he was. Harry being there, physically being there, sparked off a whole new set of emotions that he had been burying since he came home to an empty house after his first meaningful orgasm he’s had since sixth form.

 

“What’s wrong?” Harry frowned following him in. Nick wanted to be mad that Harry showed up whenever he wanted, but somehow ended up with this endearing feeling by how importantly the country thought he was, yet he spent all this time waiting for Nick to show up places.

 

“Nothing, Harry,” Nick huffed pushing into his kitchen to put a kettle on before Harry could. Nick could hide things too, and he could surely make his own tea.

 

“You’re lying.”

 

Nick didn’t need Harry to tell him that. He didn’t need Harry prying at this.

 

“Yes,” Nick nodded tossing a bag of tea in the mug he left on the counter this morning and then getting out another mug. Not making Harry tea when he looked like this and didn’t even mention how long he’d been waiting outside would be rude.

 

Harry seemed stunned into silence. He wasn’t expecting Nick to be so open after lying. To be honest, Nick liked shocking Harry.  It made him feel like he was still in control when he knew, all too well, he wasn’t.

 

“Then what’s wrong?” Harry tried again. His voice seemed deliberately slow instead of naturally and Nick felt like Harry was unintentionally talking down to him. Nick was fighting with his immaturity but ended up handing a cup of tea to Harry while maintaining eye contact anyway.

 

“You are,” Nick stated. Harry’s face was pulled into a frown, but it wasn’t the one he wore when  he was about to cry. His eyes were more focused than that. Nick really didn’t want to deal with tears, now. This was supposed to be about him.

 

“You leave all the time,” Nick continued, “Which would be fine because it’s expected, but you didn’t say anything. You were just gone, and I then had to sit there and pretend that I was fine because I can’t even explain what’s going on. We never talked about it. You just pissed off.”

 

“Nick,” Harry frowned. His hand kept twitching toward Nick, but he never committed to actually making contact. Nick was tired of this. Ever since Harry kissed him everything as been awkward, and Nick wants it to end.

 

“No, Harry,” Nick rolled his eyes, “No more hesitation and waiting. I’m trying to have a life when you’re not here, and I can’t do that when you’re not telling me anything. You were such a hypocrite getting mad when you ambushed me with a kiss because I didn’t share with you, when now I’ve been pining after you and making sure you know how important you are just for you to ignore me.”

 

Harry stared into his mug for an unbelievably long time. Nick watched him look at the plain white mug to think about this and regretting bringing any of this up. He didn’t want to do this ever, let alone every time he felt moody because Harry wasn’t there.

 

“Nick what do you want me to say?” Harry asked after waiting for Nick to stop breaking down. Nick knew what he wanted. Nick wanted to go back to the first time they met at that stupid award show when they were all naive and make jokes with James Corden about what a laugh they will be in a few years like Westlife or Futureproof.

 

He misses when Harry was dating Caroline. They were mates and Nick could get comfortable without being worried about Harry’s penis. He had thought he was straight then. He misses when he was too irrelevant for people to ask or care what they were doing because now theres a label that needs to be put on it and neither one of them have ever been good at communicating labels in the past. Asking for some kind of consensus on what they should be when there’s so much pressure seems laughable to be honest. None of these thoughts helped him sort out what he wanted Harry to say.

 

“It would help if you were a bit miserable when I wasn’t there,” Nick stated. Was that even relevant? Nick probably sounded horrible saying this, but seeing Harry move on to all this pop star stuff was probably the biggest source of Nick’s annoyance. Let’s look at Harry having the time of his life while Nick is too maudlin to get off the couch.

 

“Probably not miserable,” Nick decided, glad Harry hadn’t responded, “I think I just want to know that you miss me. You know, be reassured that I’m not being forgotten about and left behind.”

 

“I do,” Harry stated immediately. Nick looked at him and it was the most sincere and earnest Harry has ever looked when they’re both sober.

 

“Harry,” Nick sighed grabbing at his messy hair to try and ground himself.

 

“Nick, I do. You have no idea how much I miss you,” Harry reaches at for Nick’s hand because the boy is seriously cheesy but Nick let’s him, so he can use it as an excuse to look at their hands and not Harry’s face.

 

“Harry,” Nick stated slowly looking at the rings on Harry’s finger that are gripping his own hand, “then what do we do?”

 

“We get together,” Harry shrugs like that simple answer was on the tip of his tongue the whole time. It was like this painful process of longing and pining and wanting was drawn out for no reason.

 

“You’re a twat,” Nick rolls his eyes. Harry gives him a smile and try to tug Nick to him. Nick goes with a huff letting himself get gangly pale arms wrapped around his waist and a peck to the lips.

_____

 

It’d been three days. Three days of being with Harry and Nick doesn’t understand what’s happening. Harry is always with him. Literally always. He’d spent the weekend with Nick rolling around in Nick’s bed and dragging Nick around the kitchen to make breakfast and laughing with Nick on the couch to all of his commentary of the state of channel 4. He’d even came to the studio with him and did a meeting he was supposed to do over the phone while Nick went in to discuss the trip to Ibiza and the two week holiday after.

 

“You’ve got the hottest new accessory,” Scott Mills commented as they talked about him filling the slot.

 

“Seems that way,” Nick nodded looking at Harry talk in the hallway. Nick didn’t need anything more said about it. He was happy and Harry seemed happy.

 

“I just hope he remains in season,” Fincham chirped up from his spot at the table.

 

“Oi, shut up,” Nick rolled his eyes. Matt should know that that is a real possibility. Nick couldn’t really put on a real whinge about it though because he was smirking at him like he noticed how Harry and him played footsie after Matt scolding Harry for pushing the mic away and explained it wasn’t like the nighttime show.

 

“I hear One Direction is good in the summer, but I think Union J is more of a fall and winter band. Try to call George Shelley in about August,” Scott laughed.

 

“That kid is a menace,” Nick shook his head, “Fincham wouldn’t approve him for the studio.”

 

“I don’t want him in there when he’s been booked,” Matt agreed. The last incident with the begging and general annoyance was too much for both of them. Nick looks back to the hallway to see Harry scuffing the toes of his boots against the carpet while waiting on one of the many colorful couches and feels the corners of his mouth turning up.

 

“Are we done?” he asked looking back.

 

“You’re dismissed,” Matt laughed waving a hand at him. Nick gives him a grin before shooting out the door to Harry.

 

“Phone call go well?” Nick asked him to get his attention. Harry stood up with a nod and they headed out to Nick’s car.

 

“Yeah, the car is picking me up from yours tomorrow,” Harry explained.

 

“Okay, and then when will I see you next?” Nick asks.

 

“Probably about ten weeks.”

 

Nick is focused on driving. He’s focusing on the fact that Harry is here right now. Not that he won’t be.

 

“I’ll be in Ibiza,” Nick replies going through his mental calendar.

 

“Oh,” Harry nods. It’s just so Nick knows he heard it and they remain silent. It’d been sweet for three days, but Nick doesn’t want to return to how they were. He doesn’t want to see Harry gallivanting across the states getting more tan and all smiles as girls drape themselves across him. It takes him the car ride the walk to the house and a cup of tea for him to finally accept that this is part of it.

 

“My birthday?” Nick asks because he thought about it five times and he want some reassurance.

 

“Sorry,” is Harry’s reply and Nick just swallows thickly and nods continuing to watch the telly. It’s stiff and awkward again. Nick can feel the tension rolling off the both of them like they don’t know how to exist together when they’re not in the same room and they both know it.

 

“Zayn and Louis make it work, right?” Nick asks finally a final stab at reassurance. He knows it’s true. Has seen Zayn smile at a text and Louis face become guarded when he’s decided whether it’s an attack or not. “I just really love you, yeah?”

 

“Yeah,” Harry nods. He leaves it at that letting himself cuddle into Nicks side. Nick silently frowns about him not saying more.

______

 

When Nick thought he was moping before he had obviously not known the type of state he could get in over a popstar. Simply Red documentaries and Oreos are nothing compared to the wine and Wotsits he’s going through now. He went to buy Oreos at Tescos but was greeted by One Direction on the packet and marched out of the biscuit aisle and refused to return to it ever again. Which was a shame because he really needed some jammie dodgers for when Alexa visited.

 

He’d been solid for about a week doing productive things and even a skype talk where Harry complained about the heat and not being about to order water due to his accent. Nick was quick to reassure Harry with texts that he loved him. Harry on the other hand was sending him pictures of fruit baskets and gum wrappers.

 

“My sentiments are going nowhere,” Nick groaned to Fincham as he received another pointless picture from Harry.

 

“I have to work and he’s sent me a picture of rubbish in an alley,” Nick continued once the news was on.

 

“I’m sorry,” Fiona tried seeing as Matt continued to mess with knobs and flip switches which is Nick’s job by the way.

 

I meant it when I said I

loved you

 

As Nick typed it out it felt wrong, but he sent it anyway craving for something. Some sort of confession back. Nick was okay with being absolutely batshit over Harry if Harry felt at least a little something. The longer he was away Nick felt like he was getting strung along a bit.

 

Nick had been making a playlist since Harry left slowly piecing together the songs that reminded him of Harry and slowly it became the background to him googling Harry. Nick noticed as he Hey Porshe by Nelly played for the 26th time of the week, Nick had embarrassed Harry out of buying a Porshe with the song, that he was done. He could be who he was without Harry there and he was going to say yes to any and all plans that got him out of the house until Harry got back.

 

_____

 

His yes man living is what got him the call. He doesn’t know how he should feel about it, but he feels absolutely chuffed. It started with a series of texts he missed when he was in Italy.

 

                                                          _Are you an italy??_

 

_Did you go on vacation?_

 

_Is twitter full of shit_

 

_call me dickhead_

 

He ignored the text for a day trying to figure out what to say. There is no way to tell Harry that he agreed to go to Italy with a hot guy and meet his family without Harry getting the wrong message. At the same time, Nick thinks that maybe that is the message he wants to put out. He wants Harry to think he’s sharing pizza that has chips as a topping with someone that’s not him. He wants him to know that he can go to exotic places too. He just doesn’t know how to not feel guilty when presenting the evidence because no matter how much he tries to ignore it, he loves Harry. He loves Harry so, so much.

 

“Bit vile,” LMC says when she sees the messages after Nick let her use his phone to record a vine.

 

“What of it?” Nick asks. He would agree to a bit mean at worst but ‘vile’ hurts him.

 

“Making Nicco think who want him to make Harry want you,” she shrugs, “It helps make my life more rom com-y, though.’

 

“I fail to see the comedy,” Nick rolls his eyes and continues on with the show.

 

His phone starts to ring as soon as the last song starts to play over Sara Cox and him gossiping.

 

“‘lo?” Nick answered the studio clearing out so Sara can do her show.

 

“Are you avoiding me?” Harry asks immediately. Harry’s irate tone shouldn’t make Nick smile but he’s friends with Lily Allen for a reason, right?

 

“No, young Harold. Why would you think that?”

 

“You never told me you were going to Italy.”

 

“You don’t tell me everywhere you go,” Nick shrugged. He was purposefully brushing him off. He knew this would be the only time he had the upper hand like this. He had been in Harry’s shoes to many times to not revel in this at least a little.

 

“It’s public domain,” Harry argues, “You can google it.”

 

“I’ll make sure I do,” Nick scoffs. Harry never plays the pop star card. He is usually so humble and adorable about the whole famous thing.

 

“That’s not what I meant,” Harry sighs. Nick can tell he’s trying to be okay with it, but Nick knows first hand how the unwanted emotions bubble up until you can’t hold your words back.

 

“I’m sure, Harry. These are just out of context. If I’m at the full interview I’ll understand,” Nick can’t help but prod. Harry should know better. Nick had loads of experience taking the mick out of popstars from much before Harry and he knew how to make it hurt.

 

“Nick, you went with a bloke.”

 

That’s the statement that stops him. Harry sounds gutted already and pushing him anymore feels wrong. Harry is actually jealous and even though it feels like a victory, he knows it shouldn't.

 

"Yeah Nicco. He's has family he wanted to visit and asked so..."

 

"Did you have fun?" Harry asked. His voice is tight and Nick knows this voice. It's the one he hears when he hasn't visited home in too long and the one he heard when Harry forced them to watch the Bridge to Terabithia when it was on.

 

"I did, yeah," Nick replied. He didn't know how not to be mean in this situation. He had a lovely time in Venice and he posted about how good it was on the internet and talked about it on the radio. He wouldn't lie.

 

"Yeah, I have to go now," Harry forced out his voice stuttering and catching.

 

"Harry," Nick called out hoping the boy hadn't hung up yet, "I miss you."

 

The dial tone rang in his year with the only thing letting him know that Harry had even heard him the hiccup before the telltale click.

_____

When Nick opens his door he expects Aimee or Ian or really anyone that’s not Harry Styles. He couldn’t will himself to shut the door. He knew he couldn’t, so instead he steps aside and let’s Harry lead them to the kitchen where Harry fills the kettle and flicks it on. They don’t discuss anything. Nick even keeps his satisfaction silent when Harry struggles to find the tea stuff in it’s new place.

 

“Puppy gets in the cupboards so I had to move things around,” Nick explains when Harry send him a questioning glance. He’ll stick with that story instead of thinking about how he got drunk and moved them one day to spite Harry should he ever come back. Nick feels that he’s twenty nine now so he can distance himself from such juvenile behavior.

 

When they both have mugs in front of them and Harry pulls out a package of Party Rings that Aimee brought over because he still has not gone into the biscuit aisle at Tescos and she was desperate for snacks during film week, he thinks they’ll actually get to the root of something.

 

“You’re really tan,” Nick notes when the continue to sit and stare.

 

“Thanks. I think it’s from, uhh, like, working out outside and stuff,” He tells Nick slowly. Nick feels like it was unnecessary to bring up how absolutely toned Harry had gotten in the past two months. He wants again. Nick feels it’s almost unhealthy, now, how much he wants to be with Harry for real. He won’t let himself believe that it’s happening again though. He’s grown up enough to realize that Harry isn’t ready. That this is just comfortable and at one point fun.

 

As Harry curls up into the bed next to him, Nick wonders when his hate of sleeping alone will be outweighed by feelings of self perseverance or if they’ll always be stuck clinging to each other. It’s not like he doesn’t have someone. The stuff between him at Nicco has been moving steadily toward relationship territory, yet he finds himself eager to be wrapped up in Harry again. He even craves it.

  
He thinks he’s come to terms with the fact that Harry isn’t going to be in love with him back. The fact that somehow they’re stuck with too many feelings to leave it casual and not enough determination to make it work for real. Nick can’t cut it off. He knows how Harry clings to his memories of everyone and how stability here is the only thing that allows him to be any sort of put together when he’s on the road. He doesn’t know how he became Harry’s home in London the only thing that gives him comfort in a city too big and new for him, but he also doesn’t know how to stop.


End file.
